The Art of Moving On
by GeekItUp
Summary: René can't sleep at night. Ever since a certain "monster" destroyed Harlem, she has become a wreck. But how can she admit to herself that she has been damaged? And can a so-called "miracle seminar" solve anything? Rated T for violence, and because I'm paranoid. No romance. Now a multi-chapter story!


**AN-**

Hey, guys! This is Fangirl, and I've finally finished my first story on this site. I apologize if the beginning is a little slow. :)

I need to say a big thank you to my amazing friend shun-the-Cyclops for proof-reading, and offering great suggestions.

This will be the Prologue (hence, the chapter title Prologue)

:)

**Disclaimer**- I do not own the Avengers. I only own my OC's.

René sat perched on her swivel chair, trying to concentrate on the computer lying in front of her. In truth, she didn't care about her brother's friend's wedding, or about her personal life, or any of the other emails, for that matter. She tossed her tangled brown hair out of her eyes, and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. Intelligent, yet worried, brown eyes glared at the computer, as if angry that it did not contain exactly what she needed. She wore a wrinkled t-shirt and torn jeans, but didn't give any thoughts to her appearance. She looked tired, as well as ghastly pale. She was relatively young, around 22, yet she looked as if she was carrying a deep burden.

She clenched her coffee cup tightly, and when she suddenly turned around the sugar-filled liquid spilled over the sides. She cursed and scrambled to her feet, running to grab a towel. She slipped on one of the many pieces of paper scattered around the floor, and crumbled. She let aloud a cry of pain. She turned her knee over, and almost fainted. Dark red bloodspilled over her gash, and her mind was immediately transported to Harlem.

_René stood impatiently in the line for coffee. There were a total of ten people in line in front of her, but she wished with all her might that she could just get her coffee and go. It was night time, and she was trying with all her might not to yell at the person at the front of the line ordering enough food for a small nation. All she wanted was her coffee so she could head to the office party. She worked for a newspaper company as one of the journalists, and they were all celebrating Mindy's new promotion. At least, they were to her face. Everybody wanted to be the editor, but if she had to admit it, Mindy did deserve it. That didn't mean that she wasn't incredibly jealous, however. She rolled her eyes as people continued to take their sweet time. Pulling out her phone, she had about 5 new messages. Before she could look at any of them, the world starting shaking. René fell to the ground, along with several others. Her ankle throbbed, and her vision began to blur. All she could see was darkness, a giant figure, and then nothing. _

_When she woke up, her head felt like a bowling ball. She started to sit up, but her ankle almost made her pass out again. She closed her eyes, and concentrated on re-mastering the art of breathing. When she had succeeded, she began to take in her surroundings. It was the same coffee shop, but a different atmosphere. She saw frightened faces staring back at her._

"_Help," she croaked out to them. "Please, help. I can't move."_

_The people looked sad, and guilty, but they didn't move, and it occurred to René that they weren't going to help her. They were going to help themselves, and whatever happened to her didn't apply to them. Tears rushed down her face. But before she could do anything else, a roar came from outside the building. The doors were propped wide open, so she was able to see the scene in the streets._

_He was huge. And he was a bright, unnatural shade of jade green. If you could, indeed call the monstrosity in front of her a "he". It was definitely male, but not distinctly human. But the thing that scared her the most, even more then the size, or shade, or even the smell, was the destruction that he left behind. Lamps were shattered, streets were dented, and doors were ripped off of houses and other buildings. Her heart was caught in her throat, and breathing became difficult. He had…he had a huge chain. And he was choking some other creature. It was too horrible to watch. The creature before her was a monster. She tried with all her might to move away, to get away from the horrible scene in front of her. She clutched a table next to her, and quickly tried to stand. She let out a cry, and fell back to the ground. She spent the next hour before the medics came staring at her twisted ankle and the blood oozing out of her scraped knee, and listening to the screams of the other victims of the destruction of Harlem._

René took a deep, shaky breath in. That had been—what, a year ago? Her ankle had just healed a few months before, but the nightmares that came from the experience hadn't gone away. She had a sneaking suspicion that they never would. She had been off work for the first three months to recover her sanity, then four more months to recover the ankle that refused to heal, and the rest of the time for a 'personal vacation'. In all reality, she hadn't left her house since a month ago, when she learned she could have her groceries shipped to her home. She knew she needed help, but who could she ask? Who could help? And did she really have the guts to admit something was wrong?

"Help…Please, help. Somebody, anybody." She whispered, stuck in a memory.

"Things can't keep going on this way, Ren."

René turned around to see a figure with long golden hair and serious hazel eyes. René knew her smile was blinding, her laugh was musical, and she was, mostly, a friend. That didn't mean that René didn't hate her guts sometimes. Or, you know, a lot.

"Mindy? What are you doing here? I have things under control here." Even René wasn't convinced by her words.

"No, you don't," Mindy said vehemently. "You're a shell of a former self. All you do is sit on your computer and pretend that things are fine. Well guess what, honey? They're not. When was the last time you slept?"

René was tempted to lie at first, but she knew Mindy would see right through her.

"About…I don't know, a week ago?" René answered honestly.

Mindy looked at her with pity and disbelief.

"You're a wreck. What happened to the fun loving partier named René?"

"She witnessed an emotionally scarring event?"

"I don't care. Just get over yourself. Stop being a baby and get back to work."

René was surprised by Mindy's harsh words and apathy. It was hard to admit that things weren't right, but that didn't mean she could forget it all. The events were real. And so were the effects they had on René's personality.

"Have you come to my house at three in the morning for any other reason than to totally bash me?" René responded coldly, trying to act as cruel as she knew she could be, but failing.

"Yes," Mindy responded in a harsh tone, "I have. If you don't show up for work tomorrow, you're fired."

René was stunned. Fired?

"Fired? But my ankle just healed!"

"So that means you should be coming back. Listen," Mindy said in a sugary, sweet, and painfully fake voice. "Since you are my friend and all, I'll cut you a deal. I'm going to give you until Monday to return, or else I'm giving that cute intern, David, your job."

"Monday? That's only in three days!"

"Which means I'm giving you two extra days to regain your sanity. And why are you not thanking me?"

René was livid. Mindy, perfect Mindy, was someone you secretly wished to wake up and suddenly be alike. She was someone you loved to her face, and wished to be behind her back, and sometimes to her face. But this Mindy was rude, bossy, and egotistical. And René had a sinking suspicion this was what Mindy was really like. That, maybe, the Mindy at work was an act. And all she really was after was power and money.

Mindy turned and started to leave the house. René shot one last thing back.

"How come you even came to my house at three in the morning, anyway?"

Mindy turned around and gave René one last pitiful look.

"I figured you'd be up in an attempt to avoid all real life as well as avoiding sleep. I stopped by your road on my way home from work, and I saw your lights we're on. I thought I'd drop a visit."

"But how did you get into my house?"

"Easy. Your door was unlocked."

And with that, Mindy left, and René was left alone with only her thoughts, and the sinking suspicion that Mindy was right. She needed help.

* * *

In the end, only five people came. He couldn't say that he was very surprised. Who knew how many people had truly been affected by this, and who really expected them to come to terms with it and have the courage to show up? He set up the chairs in a circle, and tried to convince everyone to introduce themselves.

There was Liza, an aspiring artist in her junior year of college; Johnny, a high school senior whose recent life decisions had left him with a tattoo of his ex-girlfriend and a towering Mohawk; Kate, a 30 year old trophy wife planning on starting business school in a couple of months; Rodney, a successful lawyer with a successful law firm and a successful wife; and Emmett, a journalist who was renown in his field for being noisy, yet resourceful. All in all, the group only had two things in common; the fact that they all had the guts to admit they needed help and show up, and the nightmares. The nightmares were a given for everyone affected by Harlem.

If they were comfortable with it, he wanted them to explain the nightmares to him so that he could truly understand what they were going through. Because, although he had his own nightmares, he didn't have nightmares like theirs.

Liza described them as flashes of faint memories. No faces, only shadows and figures in the distance. But there was a malevolent, fiery feel to it, and she saw the walls fall around her, closing her in. By the end of the description she was crying, and he gave her an awkward hug and tried to reassure her.

The only other person willing to talk about it was Emmett. They were nothing more than a pleasant, happy moment at first; a kiss from his girlfriend, a promotion, nice things like that. But then, a blood curling scream. And then blood, real blood, and death, and screams and-he was cut off. By that part he had started screaming, and shaking. A break was declared, and the leader of the session patted Emmett on the back as he made them all tea.

"I'm good at making tea. Always have been, chances are I always will be. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to check something." And with that, he left with some medical device in his hand.

They couldn't help themselves. As soon as he was out of sight, they discussed him. How he was qualified, his background, and Liza was fairly interested on whether or not he was in a relationship.

They were reaching the height in their conversation when the door creaked open.

Short brown hair, deep brown eyes. But, most of all, her expression, caused the group to wave her forward. It was hesitant, as if she was contemplating whether to walk in our run away while she still had the chance. But most of all, hers eyes showed a broken side, unable to be fully hidden. And they all had felt that when they first walked in. So they ushered her in, with smiles, and names, and introductions.

* * *

René was reluctant, at first, to come to the meeting. She had researched "Harlem incident recovery", and was amazed to find any true results. So she showered, brushed her hair and teeth, and went to the bus stop. She almost didn't get on, though. And when she did, she almost didn't get off at the convention. But her conversation the night before replayed in her head, and she realized the best thing to do was to prove Mindy wrong. To recover, and become better than she had ever been.

Even after convincing herself of this, it was hard to walk through the doors. But after three minutes of staring at them, when she finally did, she knew she had made the right choice.

The building was used for conferences. It was relatively large, and had a maze of different rooms. They were in room 17B, which wasn't very far for the entrance. It was a medium sized room, with windows covered by blinds so the lush gardens, desert setting, or whatever outside setting was directly outside of that particular window couldn't be stared at meaningfully.

In the middle of a group of conference rooms there was a break room. There was a water fountain, and a large empty space.

After a minute of smiles and awkward sniffles from the red-head, René was showered with introductions.

Liza had sandy blonde hair that reached to her back. It was twisted into a braid, and she had filled the braid with paint brushes and pencils. She was slightly plump, but when she smiled it made her look adorable, her brown eyes shimmering. She wore paint splattered jeans, and a t-shirt that had grumpy cat on it.

Johnny had wolf blue eyes and jet black hair piled high into a Mohawk. René figured that he had color contacts- really expensive ones, too-and that his hair had been dyed its dark color. Of course, she tried not to mention this, or the skull and bones t-shirt and black skinny jeans combination. She figured he was really a sweetheart, but preferred to be feared. She could respect that.

Kate was possibly one of the most gorgeous women René had ever seen. Her skin was a caramel tan color, and René hated to think that she might get wrinkles when she got older. It would probably kill her. She had eyes of a rich amber color, and light, wispy blonde hair. Even with her looks, René couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She could tell Kate was seen by others as nothing more but a pretty face.

One look at Rodney and you immediately thought of the word neat. And that's exactly what he was. His bland, brown hair was neatly combed and slicked. Even at a time like this he was dressed impeccably, with a freshly ironed buttoned shirt and black slacks. His eyes were a light blue.

René loved Emmett's hair. That seemed to be her favorite thing about him. He was a ginger, with carrot orange hair. His eyes were a hazel, and he was dressed in a combination of Rodney and Johnny's styles. René still couldn't get over his hair.

And then there was René herself. They asked about her life, and she reluctantly told them certain details. They filled her in on what had happened so far, not even omitting the details like the nightmare descriptions, the crying, and the speculations on the history of the lector.

"Do you even know his name?" René asked, confused. How could these people talk about this man so much and yet not even know his name?

"You can just call me the Doctor." René spun around, her face turning an unflattering shade of crimson.

Her first thought was that he was handsome. In a rugged, hipster kind of way. His black hair was curly, and she couldn't help but notice his muscles, which did nothing to help her embarrassment.

His laughter echoed across the room. It was loud, and strong-with possibly a hint of darkness? René decided to ignore that possibility. After all, who was she to judge?

His laughter faded, and now it was his turn to turn red.

"What? No one else knows about Doctor Who?"

* * *

They sat in a circle, and people were reintroduced. Next, they tried a trust exercise.

"I know you've heard of it", the Doctor said. "Everyone's heard of it. If you had been living under a rock, you would have heard of it. So let's partner up and fall into each other's arms, shall we?"

The room of six descended into chaos, like children grabbing their partner before anyone try to take them.

Eventually everyone was paired up. Rodney and Liza, Johnny and Kate, and Emmett and René.

At first, René didn't understand the point of this exercise. How was this supposed to help? Slowly, however she began to realize.

All of them had been awkwardly standing there for a minute or two, but no one would move. René realized with a start that she was afraid. She was afraid to fall, and afraid to hit the floor, and no one would care, and then blood, and then…

* * *

They were all afraid. He wasn't too surprised. _They're just broken toys_, he told himself. _They need to make a team…that's the true cure._

He sent them into another break. All of this was cleverly planned out. There would be a twenty minute session, and then a five minute break. If he came in to collect them, but saw them really enjoying themselves, he would stretch the break out longer and cut time off some other, less important activity.

The trust exercise was truly meant to be a 'before and after'. By the end of this, they would hopefully learn to trust themselves, and to trust others.

He walked into the room after a five minute interval. As always, he was out in the hallway checking vitals and responding to an army of text messages.

They were in the middle of a strong conversation. He could tell, because they were at the far end of the long hallway, and their voices were loud. He leaned against the wall and listened to the conversation, all the while watching from around the corner.

"I just don't understand how we both could have been journalists, and never even knew each other!" Emmett was saying, addressing René.

She laughed. It was deep and rich, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse. It sounded like someone he missed, from long ago.

"We didn't even work for the same company. Besides, you write political stuff and I was on that stupid horoscope column until my promotion to local news three months ago. I doubt, even if we were looking, we would have met." René replied,amused.

From the looks of it, René and Emmett were talking about their jobs (apparently they both were journalists?), Liza was trying to draw Johnny, and Rodney and Kate were discussing business, or law, or something around those lines.

They were smiling, though. It made his heart leap to see them smiling, amused, or maybe even just smirking. To see a positive reaction out of them made him glad he had decided to do this.

* * *

Emmett was distracting. He seemed to get in her face, and speak a little too loud. René didn't mind very much, though. Okay, sure, he was starting to get on her nerves, and why couldn't he let this subject go? Still, maybe that was why she was still talking to him. Because he made her annoyed, and she hadn't had enough energy to be annoyed in a long time.

René glanced around. She walked over to where Liza was sitting, crisscross applesauce, hunched over her sketchpad. Johnny had stopped officially modeling, and was instead on his phone. He was smirking, and René couldn't help but notice that this seminar was doing wonders for them all.

Liza looked up at René and smiled.

"What? Tired of your conversation with Emmett?" She said, smiling.

René laughed, again, and sat next to Liza, her legs stretched out in front of her.

"Can I see?" She asked Liza, holding out her arm. Liza bit her lip, but then nodded and handed over the sketchpad.

There were three sketches in them. The first made René burst into laughter, which quickly died when she glanced over at Liza, who had her finger on her lips in the symbol for 'be quiet'.

"Shush, or he'll hear you, and he'll want to see it, and I really don't want to explain that." Liza said, smirking.

René stared at the picture with scrutinizing eyes.

"Do you really think that's what he truly looks like?" She asked.

The person was, at first, hard to recognize. But, looking closer, he had Johnny's face, and Johnny's structure, so the boy with closely cropped brown hair and normal brown eyes was probably supposed to be Johnny.

"I don't know, but that's how I imagined him." Liza said, answering René's question.

René shook her head in disbelief, and then studied the picture more closely.

"You're a really good artist, you know that, right?"

Liza blushed. "It's what I want to do, so I would hope so. But, still, thank you. That's always nicer to hear than 'Goodness, Liza, how did you get into this program?'" They laughed, and René noticed this was the most she had laughed since before Harlem.

"Can I turn the page?" Liza nodded, and so René pressed on.

The next picture was supposed to be the Doctor. René's eyebrows shot up like rockets, and she turned to Liza, opening her mouth, about to ask a question. Liza quickly answered.

"This probably looks really weird to you, but I swear, it's not what you think. It's just, he's… kind. Soft. He speaks to me, to all of us, like he really and truly wants to help. Like he cares." Liza's voice faded away. After pausing for a few moments, she added, "No one has ever really cared about me before." Her voice was small, and René felt pity for Liza. Not enough, however, to stop her from attacking.

"You do realize they're probably _paying_ him for this, right?"

"I thought so, too, at first. But I googled it, and they're not. It's a community, out of the goodness of your heart, kind of thing."

"Is the internet really a reliable source? What if this is, I don't know, public service hours? And he's a prisoner? Or maybe a serial killer."

Liza threw her head back and laughed for a long time. Finally, she regained her composure, and wiped a tear out of her eye before responding.

"If he was a serial killer," she said, "don't you think we would already be dead? I know you don't believe me, René, but I'm telling you. He's an angel. "

There was an awkward silence as René thought of something to say. Finally, in a soft voice, she responded.

"Liza, I care about you. We all do."

Liza smiled, and squeezed René's shoulders. René took Liza's arms and threw them away from her body, and particularly away from her shoulders.

"I know you do," Liza said. "But, seriously, René. Who brought us all together?"

* * *

After the five minute break turned into a fifteen minute break, he decided to come out from his dark corner and get back on track.

"Who's ready to get back to work?" He asked, stepping towards the room they did the exercises in.

Liza and René jumped when hearing his voice. They looked over, Liza laughing, and René looking embarrassed. The Doctor guessed that they had probably been talking about him.

When everyone was situated in the room, he had them sit in a circle. As they situated themselves, he went into a cabinet and produced a blue plastic ball.

"Alright, people, here's the plan. See this wonderful ball I have in my hand?"

They all nodded, except for Johnny, who yelled out, "Nope!"

After chuckling, the Doctor continued. "What we're going to do is we're going to toss the ball from person to person. But you have to call out the person's name before the ball gets to them. And, sadly, we all have to stand up." Everyone moaned and groaned, but started to get up.

They played this game for about ten minutes. However, it soon became apparent that this wasn't going to be too interesting. Everybody seemed to know each other's names very well. Which, of course was a good thing, but it made the game a little pointless.

Johnny raised his hand, and the Doctor, while smirking, called on him.

"Can we do something else? And can we sit down in the next activity we do?"

The Doctor chuckled, and agreed.

"Well, anyone have any suggestions for what we do next?" He asked the group.

There was no response for a few minutes, until René let out a loud yawn.

All eyes turned to her, and for a second time that day, René reddened.

"I'm sorry; I just haven't been…sleeping well lately."

There were some nods, a few sad looks, and one look of confusion and concern from the Doctor.

"If won't bother you, René, could you tell me why you're having nightmares? Maybe I could help."

René snorted. She knew she was being rude, and she knew he was trying to be sincere, but she couldn't help it. It was impossible. On the bright side, however, her personality was starting to reappear completely.

He looked puzzled, studying her as if trying to crack the puzzle of what was wrong.

"Nightmares", René finally said. "And there isn't a thing you can do about them." She paused for a moment before adding, "But thank you."

The Doctor paused before responding. "So, you're saying that you can't sleep because you have been experiencing nightmares? Has anyone else had these?"

No one else raised their hand, or even nodded.

"Really?" René was stunned. Was she really the most broken out of these people she considered so similar to herself?

"Not nightmares while I sleep. Only when I drift off, and don't focus on what I'm thinking about. And, sometimes, when I draw." Liza finally said. She then went into the other room, and returned with her sketchbook. She flipped to the third drawing. Large, shadowy figures. Fire. And, most of all, death and destruction all around.

The Doctor looked her in the eyes. "Thank you for sharing, Liza. That's a little…disturbing, but thank you."

"W-wait!" There a quiet firmness in her voice, and all attention returned to her. She turned the page, revealing a fourth drawing.

René was shocked. "You told me there were only three sketches in that book."

"I did, didn't I?" Liza said, laughing. "Sorry, René, but I lied."

With that, she ripped the picture out of the sketchbook and handed it to him. He studied the picture, generally intrigued.

It was the creature. His first reaction was confusion. Why was Liza smiling so much? But, slowly, he began noticing interesting details. At first, he noticed things like the solitude of the creature, and how close it was. Then he began to notice other things. The creature seemed almost…relaxed. The large muscles rippling off the jade creature weren't very tense. His head was thrown back as if he was laughing. And, most of all, he was slightly smaller and shorter than he was in real life. The combination of these elements gave him an almost…humane appearance.

"Thank you, for giving this to me," he said, looking her in the eye.

"I'm not afraid anymore. And it's all because of you."

* * *

Another break after that. René was having trouble understanding what had 'cured' Liza. What was it, and would René ever have her own epiphany.

She confronted Liza during the break. The only response was, "I thought I was alone. I'm not anymore."

René now understood but she just wished she would have her own moment like that.

She was tired beyond compare. Countless sleepless nights were starting to overpower the numerous cups of coffee. So, instead of socializing or anything of the sort, René leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. She was only left alone for a few minutes, however.

"René? Are you alright?" Rodney asked. She opened her eyes, confused. Rodney was the last person she would have expected to talk to her. He was one of the group, and nice, but they didn't exactly hang out. She didn't even know anything about him.

"Um, yeah," she finally responded. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Okay. Well, the seminar only lasts for twenty more minutes, but you could probably ask and go home early if you need to."

"No, I'm fine!" René said quickly.

Rodney smiled a little. "Are you usually this bad a liar?"

René laughed tiredly. "No. Some time I'll have to show you how great I liar I can be."

He laughed, too. "I'd like that. We all should hang out sometime."

She smiled before yawning again. Rodney gave a curt nod goodbye, and walked away.

René closed her eyes again. Before long, though, she was interrupted again.

"René?" Kate asked.

René opened her eyes again. _Why were all the people in the group she hadn't talked to trying to communicate with her?_

"What?" She asked Kate.

"Well, the rest of us were trying to set up a time and place to meet. Can you do the coffee shop next door to here tomorrow at three?"

"Um, sure. Yeah, I guess."  
I mean,she had enjoyed this afternoon of bonding with them, but she really wanted a moment of rest.

"Great!" Kate's smile was bright and blinding. René couldn't help but smile back. "I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

And with that, Kate went back to the group, and René closed her eyes for the third time in the last five minutes.

Naturally, it couldn't have lasted. A third, different voice, interrupted her this time.

"René? Can I talk to you?"

"Ugh, can you just give me a moment of rest?" René moaned, opening her eyes to see the Doctor's brown ones staring back at her.

_Man,_ René thought, embarrassed, _he just keeps making me blush_.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm just really tired, and-"

"I know," he said, cutting her off. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you don't believe me, but I really think I can help you. At least give me a chance."

René almost objected. She almost laughed in his face and told him no. _But, really,_ she told herself,_ it wouldn't hurt to try._ So she nodded, and followed him, when he gestured for her to do so, into another room in the building.

After a few minutes of scouting the halls they reached their destination.

"Why is there a bed here?" She asked.

He laughed. "I'm not exactly sure. Probably for conferences? Anyway, I'm sure it would be okay if you used it."

"You're crazy, right? That must be it. You're crazy, and you expect me to be crazy too."

"What makes you think I'm crazy?" He asked, trying hard, and unsuccessfully, not to smirk.

"You think you can help me, but your big, genius cure is to bring me deeper into the building and tell me to take a nap?"

"Have you tried just taking a nap?"

"Of course!"

"I meant recently?"

"Um…no, not really." René admitted.

"Give it a try," the Doctor urged.

René yawned one last time and finally nodded. She began to climb into bed, and as soon as her head hit the pillow she began to drift into sleep.

"Doctor?" She drowsily asked.

"Hmm?" He answered.

"What's your real name?"

He paused for a minute, thinking about this, before answering her.

"Dr. Bruce Banner."

"Dr. Banner," she repeated.

_That Dr. Banner is such a nice guy_, she thought.

"Liza was right," she told him. "You're an angel."

And then she thought nothing, because she allowed herself to be lulled into a peaceful sleep. The first rest without nightmares she had had in a long time.

* * *

Dr. Banner watched her eyelids flutter and her breathing deepen with a soft smile on his face. He waited until she was blissfully snoring, a sure sign she was asleep, before leaving. He glanced at his watch as he navigated the building. _5:00_. He had a flight to LA at 7:00 he couldn't afford to miss. He knew that Tony, and his multiple suits, would not be pleased. Although he kept getting cryptic texts from Tony talking about losing all his suits. Bruce had a feeling that that would end up being the nature of his visit.

First things first, he dismissed the rest of them. He got hugs from Liza and Kate, a firm handshake from Rodney, a smile and nod from Emmett, and an awkward fist bump from Johnny.

After watching them go, still amazed by their progress, he turned to the portable heart rate monitor. His rate was steady and calm. He was glad that…the other guy…hadn't made an appearance. That probably wouldn't have helped them much.

He knew this was a risky move. He hadn't wanted to tell anyone, not even Tony, but that plan quickly unfolded. When he told Tony he couldn't stay at his mansion after the Battle of New York, Tony was crushed. He tried a variety of methods, ranging from puppy dog eyes to bribery. He, at one point, had _forbade him _to leave. At that point, Bruce had broken down. He told Tony what he needed to do. And, surprisingly, Tony had supported him. Helped him pack his bags, plan his lists of stops across the U.S., and called to wish him a Merry Christmas and an invite to Stark- no- Avengers Mansion for the honor of some special job that Steve couldn't be trusted to do.

This was the biggest turnout of them all. He figured Manhattan would have the most, but he still was surprised and proud that people came out.

Bruce knew that he was on the right track to turning things around. To repent for his out of control actions. He was an Avenger now, but he knew there were still people he had deprived. He robbed them of normalcy. He robbed them of sanity. He robbed them of something as simplistic as a simple night of sleep.

He found himself wandering back to the room where she rested peacefully. He looked at her position, her appearance, and thought of her personality, and started to break down inside. She reminded him of Betty, especially when she laughed.

He grabbed a chair lying nearby and sat down. He took her hand and held it in his. The monster leaped inside, but he spoke to it.

_Not now,_ Bruce said to him. _There is a time and place for violence, for heroism, and for anger. But it's not now. It will be soon, though. And we will be very, very angry._

The idea was to create a team. An everyday team. Like the Avengers, but more normal.

He hadn't had nightmares like theirs, but he had his own. They were similar, but he seriously doubted their dreams were about losing control.

An angel, though. She had called him an angel.

_I'm not an angel,_ he thought, plagued by destruction that he was personally responsible for. _I'm the devil himself._

**AN- **Okay, guys, that's it. Please leave a review letting me know what you thought (what you liked, how I can fix any problems, etc.) Thanks, and I hoped you enjoyed it! This will be a multi-chapter story, and I'll try to update as soon as I can, although it will probably take a while.

:)

Once again, please leave a review!


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